


Papa was a Rolling Stone [Or Maybe Just an Agent]

by Sierra_Butterfly



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra_Butterfly/pseuds/Sierra_Butterfly
Summary: Modern AU. Roan was a federal agent. Clarke is a doctor. When Roan's daughter starts her first period, Roan is clueless and off to the local pediatrician they go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, here's a one-shot (possibly two-shot). There's minimal editing in this, I just had an idea and decided to go with it. 
> 
> Oh, and I was listening to the song "Papa was a Rolling Stone" by The Temptations, which is how this 'fic got it's name.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy :)

_April 2nd, 2005_

“The courts have decided to give full custody of Alicia Monica Braily to Miss Ontari Chyme, formerly Ontari Braily. Mr. Braily, permitting you are available for visitation, you are allotted bi weekly visits with Alicia. Any additional visits will be at the sole discretion of Miss Chyme.”

The moment court was adjourned, Roan left, his deft fingers loosening his tie and slinging it from his neck. Losing the silken material didn’t make it any easier to breathe, but it gave him something to do. Something better than driving his fist into the nearest wall or face. 

It wasn’t fair, but of course the courts rarely were. 

All Ontari’s attorney had to bring up was the classified nature of his assignments. “Is that really a forthcoming home to live in, especially for a young girl?” Or the fact he was rarely home for longer than a couple weeks--nevermind that he was willing to drop it all. He was willing to leave the FBI for his daughter, but that wasn’t good enough. 

Because he was fucked up. He had anxiety, PTSD, and nightmares at night. He wasn’t the most approachable man. He lived on fast food and frozen dinners when he was home, but for him those meals were the best damn things he’d have in months.

The attorney painted him as a piece of shit father, and the courts were all too obliging to believe it. 

Roan hailed a taxi, brooding in deadly silence until he reached his one bedroom apartment. 

And then he sent his fist through the wall, relishing the pain because at least it was something to tether him to reality. It was something to distract him from the ache in his chest, because just maybe the attorney was right. Maybe he was a piece of shit father. 

When his phone rang he didn’t even look at the caller ID. “What?” 

“Did you get Alicia?” 

Roan took a deep breath and released it slowly. “What do you need?” 

“We have an assignment, if you want it.” 

_Go on, you’ve got nothing to lose._ “I’ll be there.”

_April 13th, 2017_

His chest felt too tight and his legs wouldn’t hold his weight as he pressed his back against the wall. Thoughts whirred in his head like cars on a fucking race track, far too quick for him to focus on just one.

_Ontari is dead. They want you to take Alicia. You’re discharged next week. You’re being transferred to Salem, New York. Where the fuck is that even? A police officer? Aren’t I a bit scary for that? How old is Alicia even? Will she even remember me?_

“I know this is a lot to take in, Roan. We just found out a couple hours ago.” 

Roan flicked his attention away from the corner of the commander’s too-large desk and searched the man’s dark brown gaze. “How did she die?” 

“Car accident.” 

“Was Alicia in the car?” 

“No, she was at school.” 

Roan closed his eyes and massaged his temples with slow, firm pressure. “How old is she?” 

“Alicia?” 

Silence. 

“Alicia is twelve.” 

_Fuck, has it really been ten years?_

He wondered if Ontari even told their daughter that he had been overseas for the first six years after the divorce. Or that he’d been held captive for three of those six years. Not that it justified the four years after that he didn’t show up for visits. 

“She’s going to hate me,” he said under his breath. 

“She won’t hate you.” 

Roan laughed bitterly. “If she’s anything like her mother, she will.”

_April 23rd, 2017_

Roan was moved into the two bedroom townhouse right next door to Salem, New York’s chief of police, and already he hated it all. He’d only met three of the town’s residents so far and all they could do was stare at the scars along his temple, the questions so apparent in their eyes it sickened him.

_They’re so ornate, were they intentional?_

_He’s really a police officer? Not an ex-offender?_

_Maybe it’s a cultural thing?_

He wouldn’t leave his house for fear he would beat the shit out of the next person that ogled him. God forbid anyone whispered about him as he passed them. 

And then there was the issue of how fucking touchy everyone was. The mailman hand delivered his mail and shook his hand far more eagerly than necessary. 

_Hopefully it’ll get better when Alicia gets here._

_April 26th, 2017_

Alicia hated him.

Ever since she got out of the social worker’s black sedan, lugging behind her a pair of suitcases, she had barely said a word to him, except the quiet question, “Why didn’t you visit before?” 

Roan had no answer for her, and the young girl seemed uninterested in his apologies or explanations, so instead he let her be. Around dinner time he popped a frozen pizza in the oven and called for her, only for him to find out she was a vegetarian and wouldn’t eat pepperoni or sausage. 

After that he told her to look through the cupboards and he would cook whatever she wanted, but she only grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a spoon before returning to her room. 

Feeling exhausted and clueless, Roan ate the pizza and went to bed with his limbs feeling heavy.

_April 27th, 2017_

It was 8 AM when Roan woke up to quiet sobs outside his door, and he quickly grabbed a shirt and went to see what the deal was.

What he found was his daughter curled up in herself, arms wrapped tight about her belly while tears slipped down her cheeks. In that moment she seemed so unlike her mother--defenseless and innocent in a way Roan wondered if Ontari ever was. 

He crouched down beside her, managing to put himself a few inches too far away to be a comforting presence. His hand hovered in the space between them, his fingers itching to do something, even if it was as simple as brushing her hair out of her face, but it felt wrong. He was this young girl’s father by blood, but he’d been absent for ten years. 

He wasn’t this twelve year old’s dad, he was the bastard the state shoved her off on. 

Before his mind could throw more torturous thoughts at his conscience, he shook himself. “What’s wrong? Alicia?” he asked quietly.

“It hurts.” 

“What does? Your stomach?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Roan ran a hand through his hair, a moment of uncertainty making his stomach sink, and then he stood and offered his daughter a hand. “Come on, I’m taking you to the doctor.”

***

Fortunately, they were the first ones to arrive to the local pediatrician’s office.

“How may I help you?” the receptionist asked with a small smile. 

“My daughter’s stomach is hurting,” Roan said quietly, glancing at the young girl from the corner of his eyes. 

“Alright then, if you just want to fill out a few forms, Dr. Griffin will be right with you.” 

Roan took the clipboard and pen, briefly scanning the documents, and he frowned. “What if I don’t know some of this?” he asked, discomfort edging his tone. 

“Just fill out what you can.” 

He ignored the curious look in the receptionist’s eyes and sat down next to Alicia. His hopes that she could help him fill out most of it were dashed when he asked her what her security number was and she looked at him like he was an idiot for expecting her to know that.

Ten minutes later he took a calming breath and wandered back to the receptionist, brandishing the half filled out forms like a shield. “I can get the other information later. I-uh,” he paused, brows pinched together. “Her mother died a couple weeks ago. We were separated and she had full custody. I’ve been overseas for awhile.” _Liar, you’ve been back in the states for four years_. 

“I’m so sorry,” the woman went to reach out then seemed to think better of it. 

Roan nodded and started to head back to Alicia when her name was called. For a split moment he wavered between staying in the waiting room and going back with her. 

“You can come back too, Mr. Braily.” 

With the smallest nod of thanks at the blonde haired doctor, he followed a couple feet behind Alicia, arms crossed over his chest. The doctor took Alicia’s height and weight before guiding them back to a smaller room. 

Once Alicia situated herself on the crinkly paper, the doctor leaned against the counter and smiled. “My name is Clarke Griffin,” she introduced softly. “You can call me Clarke though.” 

Alicia made a small attempt at a smile before Clarke moved closer, taking her vitals and checking her temperature. “Can you tell me a bit about your stomach pain?” she asked while she worked.

Alicia pointed at the area it hurt the worst and Clarke nodded, gently pressing around the area. 

“Is it sharp or dull?” 

“I dunno. Sharp, I think.” 

“Does it hurt worse when I press?” 

“No.” 

“Does it feel better?” 

“No.” 

Roan chewed on his cuticle as he watched, amazed at Clarke’s ability to make the girl smile even while in pain. Eventually, Clarke asked if Alicia had noticed any blood in her underwear, and Roan froze, realization dawning on him. 

_I’m a dumbass_ , he swore under his breath when Alicia confirmed. 

Clarke wandered over to the cabinets and pulled out a wrapped sanitary pad, explaining briefly how to use it before sending Alicia off to the restroom down the hallway. Once his daughter was out of the room, Clarke turned to him, brows tugged together faintly. 

“Jen mentioned you guys are alone now.” When Roan didn’t confirm nor deny her statement, she went on. “I get it, Mr. Braily. I was raised by my dad. It’s tough.”

“I have no fucking idea what to do,” Roan admitted quietly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Call me,” Clarke answered simply, reaching back into the cabinet to pull out a package of pads as well as a business card. “The office number and my cell are listed. So is my email. If you have a question, call me.” 

Despite his better efforts to hide his skepticism, it must have shown as the woman laughed quietly. “It’s a small town,” she explained with a shrug. “I don’t mind giving out my cell.”


	2. Just a Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I wanted to go through a provide a quick note to a few of my stories that I've tempoarily put on hiatus...so below is the note for this story.

First off, I want to thank you all for your comments, leaving kudos, and otherwise responding so kindly to this story! I love going through and reading your guys' comments and seeing that even after leaving this story for so long, people are so receptive to the idea. I just wanted to say that I do plan on continuing this, as well as my other Clarke and Roan stories. 

Not going to lie, I didn't have anything major going on that's stopped me from writing, I just fell off the fanfiction wagon for awhile... But since then I've managed to write the first drafts for an original trilogy (science fiction with an emphasis on global conflict and war), so I'm one step closer to getting some of my original works published :D I managed to get a week off of work around Thanksgiving, so my plan is to edit book one and distribute an editor's copy to a couple close friends, at which point I'm stepping back from the series for a month or two, so when I return to it and consider my friends' feedback, I can look at it with fresher eyes. During the month or two that I'm staying away from my original fiction, I plan on hashing out several chapters, if not the entire story, for this 'fic and Dark Side of His Sun. 

In the meantime, since I previously had zero intentions of continuing this story, I'm very open to any hopes and dreams for this 'fic. So if anyone has anything that they really want to see (an interaction, event, or even a certain type of lemon scene in the future) then feel free to leave a comment or shoot me a pm and I'll do my best to incorporate it. So far there are only a handful of ideas that I have. 

Also, my goal is to have roughly 10-15 chapters for this 'fic. If I do get a few chapters written relatively soon (after Thanksgiving), would you guys prefer updates once a week, or a complete upload of all chapters sometime mid-December to early-January?


End file.
